Home
by metameric1
Summary: On finding your mate and starting a family...a mother and daughter share time together. One shot, complete.


_This is sort of a prequel to my fic You'll Know When You Have Kids Of Your Own. Rated M for obvious reasons, if you read it. _

_Daria, Jane and Trent are characters that are the property of MCI/Viacom. This is a work of fanfiction and nothing of value has been exchanged in its creation._

* * *

 _Daria: Um, what are you guys gonna do today?_

 _Helen: Pay the bills._

 _Jake: Wash the cars._

 _Daria: Wow. Well, remember to take plenty of rest breaks and stay hydrated._

* * *

 _ **Home**_

She smiled as she watched her daughter poke her head around the corner, wondering where her mother was. She was still at that age where it mattered where in her universe her grownups were.

"What's that, Mommy?" Ani asked, noticing the open box on the floor that the petite woman had been digging in.

"Just some old things," Daria murmured, "from before you were born."

The little girl raised an eyebrow, slightly perturbed with the thought that she had once not existed. Before Ani, before she knew her Mommy... before her Mommy knew who _she_ was. She looked at the woman sitting on the floor in front of her, and tried to imagine her as a younger person, before she was born.

Her mother was smiling.

Ani frowned. "Were you happy when I wasn't here?"

Daria laughed quietly, and held a hand out to the little girl. "Come here, you. Yes, I was happy, but not because you weren't around." Ani settled into her mother's lap, somewhat mollified but still curious as to what was in the box that made her mother smile.

Pictures. Mommy and Daddy. Before she was born. Before her dumb brother Jacob was born. She reached in and picked one of them up. In it, an annoyed and younger Daria was reaching for the camera, bedcovers pulled up to cover herself. Her father, shirtless, seemed amused.

"Your Aunty Jane took that picture. I wasn't very happy when she did."

"Were you and Daddy fighting?"

"Not exactly," mumbled her mother, blushing.

"But the bed is all messed up." After a moment, her eyebrow shot up. "Oh," she giggled. "You and Daddy were playing." Mom made funny noises sometimes when she and Jacob were supposed to be in their beds asleep.

Her mother relieved her of the photo. She picked up another picture. "Daddy had weird hair," she said after awhile. "And pictures on him." She pointed at his chin. "And stuff on his face. Will you please make me a sandwich?"

Her mother obligingly stood up and tapped her daughter on the head with an imaginary wand.

"You're a tuna salad and potato chip sandwich."

Ani giggled and wrinkled her nose. "Aunty Jane needs to stop making those things. They're bad for Nicky. He eats too many and then pukes. I want _Fritos_ on my sandwich."

* * *

 _A very short lifetime ago…_

 _He quietly opened the bedroom door, setting his stuff down against the workstation in the dark. He smiled; in the dim moonlight he could see that the bedcovers were rumpled into a familiar shape against the softly billowing curtain._

 _Quietly undressing, he crossed the room to the modest master bath and brushed his teeth. Scrubbing a hand across his face, he sighed quietly and began to shave the day's stubble away, finishing with a warm washcloth and toweling himself dry._

 _He felt her stir as he slipped between the sheets._

 _Reaching over, he ran his fingers through her thick, silken hair, delighting in her familiar feminine scent. He nuzzled her; wondering how it was that she always smelled so fresh and good._

 _She smiled softly, and murmured her pleasure in having him back home. He wondered if she would one day take the daily reunion for granted._

 _She rolled to face him, sliding her arms around him and pulling him into a deep and tender kiss. He responded by pulling her over himself, making her laugh softly. Those notes were graced by the brushing of her hair across his face, and he marveled at the softness of her curves and the warmth of her breasts against his skin._

 _"Hey." Her simple greeting spoke volumes in its subtle inflection._

 _"I love you."_

 _" 'S why I'm here in this compromising position. I love you too." She shifted slightly, softly pinning him against the bed. "Are you tired?" She leaned in and nipped his neck playfully. "Guess I should leave you alone and let you sleep." She began to shift as though she was leaving her comfortable perch, but then began to tilt her hips slightly, sliding herself slowly and smoothly along his growing hardness._

 _He reached down and grasped her bottom. He loved her teasing. She teased him in so many ways; even when she thought that she was being anything but provocative. She was small and slender, but her favored loose clothing hid surprisingly lush curves. She had beautifully toned legs, probably from her long habit of favoring heavy, utilitarian footwear. True, she had also matured since he had first met her as a waiflike girl, all those years ago. To her dismay she never managed to get much taller._

 _He didn't mind. She had lovely legs and an ass that drove him insane; a young woman's belly, the musculature showing under the lightest layer of feminine fat. It smoothed her, but didn't hide the benefits of the exercise she had made a habit of ever since she had decided to drop the weight that she had picked up during the first year of college._

 _To him, she was exquisite. She had lovely breasts, definitely more than a mouthful, the nipples a rosy pink against her pale skin._

 _She leaned forward, bringing her lips against his, the tip of her tongue sliding slightly into his mouth, across his own lips. He felt her nipples harden as he squeezed her bottom, making her moan softly as his hands began to drift down and along her inner thighs. She pushed away with her arms, her breasts swaying, making him pull her up and leaning forward to place the tip of his tongue to a rather sensitive spot._

 _She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and head, drawing him to her, closing her eyes as he suckled her greedily. Moving her hips slowly, she began to stroke his hardened shaft against her, her folds wet and warm. With each stroke, she brought his glans against her clitoris, the warmth of his wetness adding to her own, her opening growing wetter with each stroke._

 _Had it been earlier in the day, she would have prolonged his exquisite agony, drawing it out into an idyll, a complication, and then the anticipated climax. This late, though, meant that she had been waiting for him, thinking about making love. The thought had surfaced too often in both of their days, almost to distraction, and so it was that she could wait no longer._

 _She slid forward, tilted her pelvis and guided him into her. She moved slowly, deliberately, savoring the sensations as he slid inside her, the fullness, the heat, the yielding to desire. She liked being on top; she was in control. You're my big toy, and the best part is that the wet spot's gonna be on your side of the bed. She smirked internally, but some if it got away from her as she laughed. Aww, hell. She liked it when he got aggressive too. Maybe they could share the wetness._

 _Lidded brown eyes meet ocean blue. No, you're not a toy. Not just a roll in the hay, you are my lover and my love. I love you for far more than mere carnal pleasure, as you love me. Why else would you put up with the shit I put you through? I try, I really do, I try to be less unpleasant to live with, and still you stay with me. Do my many faults truly not bother you? Am I your wind, and you my willow?_

 _He answered her unspoken thoughts with his lips against hers, his body flexing and molding against her own, kisses in the hollow of her throat and shoulder, trying to bring their bodies together as tightly as their spirits were entwined._

 _She smiled softly in the dark as they lay spooned, shuddering slightly as his fingertips slid through the wetness on her thighs. Messy business, this. When they had finally made love for the first time, she had been surprised at how her body responded to his, how reluctant she was to wipe away their intermingled fluids. She reveled in the silken wetness, the shared sensuality new and intoxicating to her. She quickly learned how counterproductive cleaning him with her lips and tongue was, although the attempt was not without its rewards._

 _That first blissful night was followed by an embarrassingly unproductive day. At least it had been a Friday. It still made her blush when she thought about the uncharacteristically goofy grin she must have been fighting back that day, never mind the funny walk that Jane took great pleasure in imitating from time to time, even though it usually ended with her picking pizza toppings out of her hair._

 _"Stop it," she growled as her best friend managed to perfect a disturbingly accurate sound with her lips and a pickle. "You have a dirty mind."_

 _"I'm not the one who has to wash her sheets every other day. You guys should do it on top of a plastic tarp or something. And think about shaving down there, or at least remember to clean out the lint trap in the dryer."_

 _"Thanks again for the headphones, Amiga," Jane smiled, wondering if she should risk the funny walk once out of Daria's accurate pitching range._

 _"They get loud, you know. "_

 _"I thought so."_

* * *

Daria watched the dark haired little girl lead the way into the kitchen. She had apparently tried to make a sandwich on her own, having pulled a stool over to the central island and gathering a number of carefully chosen items from the cabinets.

"I got stuck on the can," explained Ani. "Show me again how the opener thingy works."

Daria smiled, shaking her head slightly. Ani had followed the directions on the index card stuck to the refrigerator door, and had retrieved the bottle of mayonnaise from the fridge instead of opening a new one from the pantry. A small mixing bowl sat ready, along with a long-handled spoon, a fork, and slices of bread on a plate. The loaf of bread was already put back in its basket, its plastic bag neatly closed.

She showed Ani how to hook the cutting wheel of the opener over the lip of the can and watched her face set into a determined expression as she squeezed the handles together, puncturing the lid. The little hands then carefully manipulated the tool, slowly but surely opening the can, drained the excess liquid from the tuna, and mixed it with mayo in the bowl. Ani cleaned up as she worked, a habit she had picked up from her mother.

"I'll put the mayo away for you," she offered. _This is not normal,_ she smirked, opening the refrigerator.

 _Fine by me. Normal is boring._

Her little girl had learned to read by the time she was three. She followed little recipe cards for snacks stuck to the refrigerator door and had shown her little brother Jacob how the baby locks worked not long thereafter. Both children already understood what was and was not safe for them to handle.

Daria had been surprised to find a butter knife and plate in the kitchen garbage can over a year ago. Ani had made Jacob a peanut butter sandwich and had 'cleaned up' after herself. Apparently she had been doing it for quite a while, which explained why they were down to three butter knives in the whole kitchen.

 _"Guess I should have explained the dishwasher too," Trent had smiled. "She didn't want Jacob bugging you while you were working on your laptop."_

"Dammit!"

Daria snapped back to the present. "Please watch your language, Sweetie. What's wrong?"

"Somebody ate all the Fritos. _Now_ what am I gonna do?" Ani stuck out her lower lip. "Now I'm gonna _starve_."

Daria suppressed a grin. "Why do you need Fritos in your tuna sandwich?"

"Sandwiches are supposed to be crunchy."

"Your Aunt Jane's the one who says so," Daria smiled. "Normal people eat quiet sandwiches."

"Normal is boring," grinned Ani.

"Put some Rice Chex on your sandwich then."

"No, Frosted Flakes."

"We don't buy sugary cereals. Rice Chex or you get a quiet sandwich."

"Oh-kaaay," huffed Ani in her best put-upon voice. "Can't have a quiet sandwich, or the sandwich ghost won't be afraid to steal it."

Daria didn't fail to see the little smile playing at the corners of Ani's smart mouth.

* * *

She glanced at the clock. Trent's plane would be arriving in time for the two of them to share a late meal together. Jane had offered to have the kids sleep over with their cousin Nicky, so Daria had decided that she would make a homemade lasagna for all the kids. Jane and Matt would split a pizza that she had already ordered from the Trattoria downstairs. She'd nick a slice to carry her over, until she made the run over to Logan International to pick up her husband.

 _It's a different kind of happy, she reflected, remembering the embarrassing photo that Ani had pulled from the box. Back then we didn't have to lock the bedroom door, or even stay in the bedroom._

 _Happiness- pleasure- was one of those rich, complex aspects of life. On one hand, there was the ecstacy of making love, and on the other, the sublime grace of its fruit. Now we have our two wonderful kids, and we're going to do better for them than what either of us had when we were their age._

It was funny, how much she was looking forward to a night together, alone with her husband. _We love our kids, but sometimes we have to pay attention to us._

Thinking about a certain pink bag tucked way in the back of her underwear drawer, she smiled in anticipation of a little treat she had planned for him.

 _Welcome home._


End file.
